Month: January 2019

Amends

trE
Taken during my walk on my lunch break. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I have forgiven you,
you no longer threaten my growth.
I know that in order to flourish,
in order to bloom, I had to give you
the sunshine you needed and acquire my own.
It is your decision to stay bound,
connected, linked–desperately clinging to
another who only lip-services you and does not
honor your heart.

I do not want that for my own,
so I chose a place for me, for my heart
where both of us can be loved accordingly
and fully without shame.
I hear my heart more now.
I listen.
It has been
s  h  o  u  t  i  n  g 
and I have ignored it, but now–
now I know what it needs
and that is not you.

A lie would be to say that
I don’t miss being a thought of yours,
that I don’t still dream of you,
that on occasion, I don’t get teary-eyed.
I do.

But, I am choosing me.
I know I will not let me down.
This is my letter of amends to you,
my offering–to give you what you have
been wanting,
freedom from commitment.
freedom from love.

Gloomy

trE
Icy Tree|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

An ice storm passed through here
last week and I thought about you.
About your voice and its eerie sensibility
of staying even when emotions were heightened.
Robotic, you seemed not quite human
in those moments.
Because how many of us can sound as
if we’re happy when our world is
crumbling right before our eyes?
How many of us will keep breathing
without flinching or changing octaves?

I often wondered if you were battery-operated.
If there were actual bells and whistles
probing you to act.
Nothing about our breakups was normal,
but then, no one would really categorize
“breaking up” as normal, especially if
they did not want to.
You were cool as one could ever be.
I never saw you cry.
Not when you failed your driving exam.
Not when you were cut from the
varsity basketball team.
Not when your parents divorced.
Not when your Grandfather died.

“What’s keeping him from falling apart?”
I used to ask myself that question for
a number of years and finally, I stopped.
“He just doesn’t get emotional.
He has one setting, neutral.”

An ice storm passed through here
last week and I thought about you.
I wanted to not feel anything too.

But, what of the end?

trE
endoftheworldart
Courtesy of CBS News/End of The World Images

Will it come with fire and brimstone?
Fearful children running alongside their parents–
Threatened to be charred while in motion.
Can we expect it as if in a blink of time?
A piece of history chewed up, swallowed, and spat
Back out to us dripping with disdain?
A deluge, a monsoon, a tsunami wrapped into one
Cast down from the heavens above,
Drowning us into oblivion.

The end will come with hungry mouths
Burdened by fangs–blackholes for bellies
Unable to fill.
It will come without us knowing,
During a moment where love
And destiny meet.
It will come with hopeless wings
Shy of flying and a soul fraught with pain.

The world will crumble,
Break apart, turn into dust,
And find its way jarred and placed
On God’s shelf as a reminder of
What he should not have done.
What of the end?

Can we rely on it to be on time?

Sometimes, I have to write my way out of a funk–out of the pain and sadness that I feel for this world. There is so much we can do if we work together, if we loved each other more. There are so many ways that we can contribute to making our world a better place. I wish… we did so much more of what we need to do.

The Funny Bone 

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Me, an hour ago. I always fall asleep in my chair, with the remote close by and my glasses still planted on my face. The only thing missing is Jernee.

I do not watch much television, but on my days off and at night, you can find me in my big chair, in a relaxing position, watching cartoons or a few movies. I almost always fall asleep before 9:00 pm, telling myself that I’ll just close my eyes for a bit, get a few winks. Tonight… I had to shake myself awake so that I can get my nightly dose of Thera-flu with honey into my system. 

I want to be able to breathe without struggling to do so and this regimen is necessary. Why is the body so leaky? We have too many spaces in which fluids go in or come out and when one is sick, certain fluids are icky. I am looking at you mucous, yeah, you! Ick! Now that I am awake, I am filling myself with a liquid that always helps. It’ll surely give my enemy mucous a run for its money. 

Hey, when you’re sick, there’s gotta be some type of humor shuffling about. The old funny bone has to be tapped a few times if you wanna survive. 

*Taps funny bone*

Ouch!

Under The Weather

trE
A shot from Winter Storm Diego, December 2018.

I am inside, swaddled in my favorite blanket,
lounging in the chair, feeling like death
is coming for me.
What is it about Winter that causes
it to bring the worst cases of sickness with it?
I am Thera-flued, honeyed, and zinced up
to my nose, trying to keep my senses in tact.
Old-Man-Winter is waving his cane
in our faces, cackling at our woes.
He is having fun while our bodies
are betraying us.

First snow, then sleet, then freezing rain
and I think to myself, “make up your mind
already!”
The stillness of my home shocks me.
I am even more quiet than normal
and if I attempt to speak, my voice disappears.

If the blues have come in search of me,
they will find me catering to a stuffy nose,
watery eyes, a sore throat, and painful ears.
I hope they bring good company.
Bad influences are not welcome.